Rapid Hope Loss
by jellybeans16
Summary: How Brooke copes, or fails to cope, with the fallout from her and Nathan's sex tape. Pairings as on the show, but will probably become Brucas as it progresses. Rating for language and reference to adult themes.
1. Prologue

This is my very brief version of each of the character's reactions following the end of 4x14...as yet, I haven't seen 4x15 so have no idea as to what will happen next in the show. However, for the purposes of this story, Peyton punches Brooke at the party, and all of the accounts end at this moment in time. I plan to use this as a prologue to a full length story focusing on Brooke, but who knows how that will turn out so I wanted to post this first anyway. Oh, and just as a warning, I love Brooke and Lucas as a couple, so these two may have some thoughts that Leyton fans might not agree with...

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**Haley **

For a second, there is complete silence. And then, as the whispers grow louder, the image on the screen before me begins to register. Nathan. And Brooke. Nathan and Brooke. Together. I glance at her, not ready to look at my husband yet. She looks as stunned as I feel, her face pale as water drips from her wet hair onto the carpet. For a second, I succeed in blocking out the images as I wonder why she is so wet. I know it's not raining outside. And then I remember, Nathan told me he had rigged the sprinkler system to come on, hoping to surprise whichever of the guys happened to be outside at the time. Obviously it got Brooke instead. I shake my head imperceptibly, realising the state of Brooke's hair really isn't something I should be pondering right now, and as I do so my eyes catch on the damp spots on Nathan's shirt. Oh great. I have to get out of there, and so I push my way to the door, mumbling apologies to the people I bump into on the way, people who look at me with expressions of curiosity mixed with pity. It's the second of these that gets to me; I know, from Nathan's hair and obvious youthfulness, that the film was made before he and I were together, and I want to scream this at these people who are staring at me as I pass. _Don't pity me_ I shout inside my head. _Pity Peyton, it was her he cheated on!_ I want to scream these words aloud, but I don't. After all, I've already bitch-slapped Rachel tonight, any more anger and people will start to think these damn hormones have sent me crazy. Maybe they'd be right.

Finally I make it outside, and walk a few houses down the street before sitting down on the kerb. The shock has subsided now, and I'm not entirely sure how I feel, or even how I should feel. Anger I think, and disgust, but mostly I'm just tired of the jealousy that settles in the pit of my stomach every time I think of Nathan with another girl. Already I feel uncomfortable with Peyton whenever the subject of sex comes up because I know about her history with Nathan, but now Brooke too? Will this ever end, or has he screwed his way through every girl in the school? Bevin? Theresa? I sigh, knowing that I can't live like this, constantly wondering who else has seen my husband naked. If we were older, then maybe things would be different, but he married me at sixteen. _Sixteen_. At that age I was a virgin. So was Luke. I'm pretty sure Peyton had only slept with Nathan. And Brooke…well, that's where my argument falls apart. She was a self-confessed slut before she started dating Lucas. And yet I can't find it in myself to be mad at her. Or even at him, really, now the first flush of anger has begun to fade. Sighing, I pick myself up and start to head back inside, even smiling wryly as I contemplate the carnage that has no doubt ensued in my absence. I know I'll forgive him, maybe I already even have. But that doesn't stop it from hurting.

**Nathan**

I hear Brooke's horrified gasp and my eyes meet hers. I can't see my own face, but I know that if I could I would see the exact same mixture of horror, shame, and guilt that I can see on hers. Somewhere far below the emotions bubbling up on the surface of my mind a voice is shouting at me to turn the tape off, but my feet remain rooted to the floor. My eyes search for Haley's but she is watching Brooke, and I know from the stiff way she holds herself that she can't bring herself to look at me. Sighing, my eyes continue to roam the room, looking for a face that is showing neither excitement at the unfolding drama, nor hostility, but I can't find one until I lock gazes with my brother. I almost sigh in relief. Lucas. He won't be angry, sure he'll think I was a jackass, but that's hardly anything new. Everyone knows I was an ass before I met Haley. But then I stop; realising that the look Lucas is giving me is far from understanding. He looks…jealous. I pause to think about this for a second, anything is better then contemplating the situation before me, and it occurs to me that maybe my big brother isn't as over Brooke as he claims to be. I make a mental note to ask him about this later, although obviously not in the earshot of Peyton.

And then it hits me. _Peyton_. The girl I was dating when I slept with Brooke. The girl who is my brother's girlfriend and one of my best friends, Brooke's _best_ friend, come to that. Or former best friend, I suppose, after all the Lucas drama. I groan inwardly, comprehending for the first time that this whole thing is going to extend much further than just Haley and I. Haley. I'm suddenly aware that she is no longer in the room and my heart aches. But then I hear a shout of anger from my right, and a yelp of fear from my left, and I force Haley from my mind for long enough to register the curly blonde forcing her way through the crowd and catching the scared-looking brunette with a fist. Chaos breaks out around me, and any grasp I had of the situation is gone.

**Peyton**

The first emotion that I'm aware of is of respite. Having burst into the room expecting to see myself appearing in a more pornographic version of a home movie, I actually breathe a sigh of relief as I realise that the girl Nathan is screwing isn't me. I don't understand how anyone made the mistake. This girl has dark hair and is pretty in a completely different way to me. I even smirk as I notice the size of the girl's breasts: definitely not me. And then I finally notice that the room is deathly silent, and I can feel people staring at me. My ears pick up a whispered conversation from the doorway. _Oh my God, Nathan cheated on Haley?_ One girl whispers, and I feel a pang of sympathy for my friend. But_ no_, the other girl answers,_ Peyton_. I nod, understanding now why I am being watched, but I don't really feel anything. I have no interest in Nathan now, and I already knew he was a dick while we were together, so why is everyone so excited? I look back at the screen, hoping it will provide me with the answer, and it does. The girl is Brooke. My best friend, or at least, she was at the time. And the guy she's fucking was my boyfriend.

Bile rises in my throat as it dawns on me what this means. Brooke, the girl who had been with me through everything, had betrayed me. I feel weak and confused, my brain unable to process something so huge. I search the crowd for something to stabilise me, and my eyes catch Lucas's. For a split second, I get lost in his eyes, and I feel safe again, but then my brain begins working overtime, clicking things into place at a rate of knots. I remember last year, refusing to get involved with Lucas because our cheating had broken Brooke's heart. I remember Brooke slapping me on Haley and Nathan's wedding day because I told her I was in love with Lucas. I remember her telling me she couldn't be friends with someone who would try to steal her boyfriend. And I look back at the screen and watch as the girl who said all these things screws the guy who was my boyfriend. Anger courses through my body as I realise the extent of her hypocrisy, and I can no longer control myself. Screaming, I launch myself through the crowd, and the last conscious thought I have before the red mist settles in is of how glad I am that Derek taught me how to throw a decent punch.

**Lucas**

Nathan and Brooke. I can tell from the stunned silence around me that people are struggling to process the scene before them, checking the screen over and over to make sure they haven't made a mistake. But I know they haven't. I know the body of the girl in the movie better than I know my own. The body that, as I watch, my brother pushes back onto the bed and climbs on top of. I screw my eyes shut for a split second, praying that the images will disappear, but it's no use, and as I open them again I catch Nathan's eye. He looks lost, searching among the hostile crowd for a friendly face. But that can't be me, I'm too…I'm not sure what I am. I know if I want to be a writer I should be able to name emotions, and I also know that, in any other person I would label this feeling of disgust mixed with anger as jealousy. But that can't be right. Brooke and I are just friends, barely even that. So then why do I feel like killing my own brother for daring to touch Brooke in the way his on-screen image is doing? I refuse to believe that I could be jealous; I love Peyton, I'm sure of it.

_Peyton_. I stop analysing my own feelings and realise for a second what this must mean for her. From the images on the screen, and from the whispers of people around me I'm fairly certain that this tape was made whilst she was dating Nathan. I glance at her, and she looks stunned, as though she is struggling to grasp exactly what this means. She catches my eye, and I try to silently reassure her. I can't have succeeded though, as she pulls her gaze away after only a split second. Sighing, I turn back to the screen, but am forced to turn away again as a wave of lust overtakes me at the sight of Brooke's now naked breasts. Brooke. I can't see her from where I am standing, yet I am sure I know exactly what she is thinking: that no matter how hard she tries she will never be anything but a slut. I almost want to find her, to take her in my arms and tell her that that isn't true, but I don't because I know that is no longer my place. Instead, I turn my stare back to Peyton, who is looking angrier than I've ever seen her, and I realise that she has finally grasped the level of Brooke's hypocrisy. As Peyton launches herself forward, I instinctively begin to push my way through the crowd.

**Brooke**

A wave of nausea overcomes me as I catch sight of myself on the screen, instantly realising that this moment signals the rapid degeneration of my life as I know it. My eyes meet Nathan's and I know he is as horrified as I am, and yet neither of us moves to turn the tape off. Instead, I scan the room manically, desperately trying to read the expressions of the people who matter to me. I catch Haley's eye, and for a moment I am relieved: she doesn't look mad. And then I look again, and see the hurt and disappointment etched on her face, and I feel worse than ever. I sense Chase watching me, and I look up, knowing even before I meet his gaze that our relationship, if that's what it was, is over. I should have known that it couldn't last, that a nice guy like Chase wouldn't want to date the class whore. I turn away from him, and catch sight of myself on the screen, my naked body entwined with Nathan's as he moves on top of me. Sharp tears sting my eyes, and I will them away, determined not to let the gossips see how much I care.

Time appears to have stopped as I stand there, in a sea of people who are dissecting my life as though they actually know the real me. _God, she's such a whore_, the girl next to me whispers seemingly incredulously and I actually nod in agreement. _Both Scott brothers?_ Another voice behind me joins the whispers, and I can detect the jealousy in her tones. _I wonder who was better?_ Her friend giggles back, and for a second images of Lucas force their way into my head as I silently answer her question. _Lucas_. I long to find him, to explain, but I know that he doesn't need an explanation. Not because he loves me unconditionally, but because he just doesn't love me. Not in that way. Not in the way he loves Peyton. As the name of my former friend registers in my mind, it occurs to me that I might not be the only one who can answer the question of the Scott brothers' comparative sexual prowess, and bile rushes into my throat. I turn to run, before I embarrass myself further, but before I even take the first step a curly-haired blonde flies out of the crowd towards me, fists flailing. I hear myself cry out in fear, and then my mind finally switches off and I can no longer feel anything.


	2. Chapter 1

Okay, first of all I wanted to thank the people who reviewed what I have now decided is the prologue to this story, so thank you! And I completely agree with Sister Tenenbaum that Lucas's reaction in 4x15 was not at all what I was hoping for – he just didn't seem at all concerned that his brother had slept with his ex-girlfriend! Anyway, this continues from where I left off, but from now on will be told entirely from Brooke's POV. I've got the events of the next few chapters planned, but after that I'm not entirely sure where I want to go, or even whether I want a happy or sad ending, so please bear with me! Enjoy, and all reviews are welcome!

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Warm water is running down my face, and I blink, trying to work out where it is coming from. Suddenly, beautiful blue eyes come into view and my heart skips a beat. For a moment it's as though nothing has changed, as though we're still together, but then I read the disappointment clouding those eyes, and realisation kicks in. The events of the past hour come flooding back to me, and I turn over and vomit as the image of Nathan and I fucking fills my mind. Lucas bends down and rubs my back as I continue to heave, tears streaming down my face as I remember the look of disgust on Chase's face, the hurt on Haley's as she ran from the room, Nathan's overpowering guilt, Peyton's anger, Lucas's…well who knew how Lucas felt? Certainly not me. Sighing, I sit back up, accepting the glass of water Lucas is holding out to me. I take a few sips and set the glass back down, before reaching up to my face to explore the cuts and bruises that Lucas has so painstakingly cleaned while I was unconscious. I wince, as I touch a particularly painful spot just below my left eye. Damn, for someone so skinny, that girl knows how to throw a punch.

'You okay?' I think I detect a note of concern in his voice, and I look at him hopefully. But no, his gaze won't meet mine, and I can tell by his stiffness that he is disappointed in me. So I nod in response, knowing that he can't take my pain, that he won't.

'Fine.' He stands up again and dusts off his jeans, obviously ready to leave. 'Lucas…' My voice trails off as he looks back at me, and all I can think of to say is 'thanks.'

He nods in response, and turns back towards the door. I watch him leave, knowing he is going to find Peyton. Yet I force down the jealousy rising up within me. I want the best for Lucas, I really do. And I'm not the best. I'm just a cheap slut who screwed his brother. And half the rest of the school come to that. Self-loathing is something that I'm good at, and tonight I think I can reach new levels. But first I need to get out of here, so I stumble to my feet and sneak out the back, hoping that the raised voices I can hear come from people so immersed in their own conversations that they won't notice the bang of the door as it closes behind me.

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'….so are you actually planning on dragging your ass out of bed so you can get dressed before school, or are you just gonna go naked? I mean, now that everyone's seen you in your birthday suit, why waste time putting on clothes? Although I guess based on that logic you'd have been going topless since the whole time capsule incident, so maybe not…'

'Rachel. Shut the fuck up,' I spit, as my feet hit the floor, and I storm over to the closet.

She gives me that irritating smirk of hers. 'Got you out of bed didn't it? I take it you _are_ going to school today, or have you given up on that too?'

I groan, rubbing my eyes in confusion. 'What are you talking about?' What does she think I've given up on? Okay, so I haven't exactly been a social butterfly this weekend, but what does she expect?

'Uh, hello, you missed prom Davis' Rachel informs me sarcastically. As if I didn't know. I'd been looking forward to this weekend since forever; the perfect red dress had been hanging on the closet door for at least the last week. But then everything went wrong, and I couldn't bring myself to ruin everyone else's night by showing up, so I'd stayed in Rachel's room, imagining them all enjoying themselves: Rachel with some random but gorgeous guy, Bevin with Skills, Shelley with Mouth, Haley with Nathan, Peyton with Lucas….okay, so if I'm honest most of my time was spent thinking about that last pairing. I can't help it, even the thought of them together makes me feel sick, and knowing there was a very real possibility that he was screwing her as I lay there alone made me want to curl up and die. A tear threatens to escape, and I rub my eyes again, determined not to let Rachel see my pain. Instead, I paint on my happy mask and pull my sexiest jeans out of the closet, along with a killer black vest that shows off my assets to their very best. Well, if everyone thinks I'm a whore I guess I may as well dress like one, right?

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I wait until the warning bell rings before I leave the safety of my car, figuring at least this way the halls will be empty when I reach my locker. I slip inside the building, praying desperately I won't run into any of the people I'm trying to avoid. Not that it even matters, I realise, as it occurs to me that all of these people are in my first period English class. Nathan, Haley, Peyton, Lucas… _Dammit Davis_, I hiss under my breath. _Do you have to be an idiot as well as a slut?_ Evidently that is the case, and I sigh for what must be the millionth time this hour, a sigh that stops mid-exhale as I catch sight of my locker. I'm still a good distance from it, but the bright red paint spelling out the word WHORE across the tired grey metal is pretty clear. For a second, I am reminded of the time that Felix scrawled DYKE on Peyton's locker, but only for a second. Then it occurs to me that the similarities between the two events are actually minimal: whatever else she may be, Peyton isn't a dyke.

Angrily I spin round, and almost sprint towards my classroom, which, thankfully, is in the opposite direction to the mildly artistic and very public appraisal of Brooke Davis that is now burned into my mind. Of course, this means I don't have my books, but it's not as though I've actually read whatever novel we're supposed to be reading this week anyway, so that's hardly a major problem. In fact, now that I think about it, I haven't done any reading for this class since Lucas and I broke up, so I'm probably on the verge of flunking this class too. And that's even after sleeping with the teacher. I snort in self-disgust, and stride on. I'm just about within acceptable limits for lateness and I really don't want to overstep them: detention is not something I need right now.

And then I'm there. Outside the classroom, hand on the doorknob. I gulp, and take a deep breath before opening the door, intending to tiptoe my way to my seat, ideally without anyone even realising I am there.

Obviously, this is a plan doomed to failure, however, as before I've even taken a step into the room Nick's voice booms out at me. 'You're late Miss Davis,' he announces, and I can detect the sneer in his voice, a definite indicator that he, and probably all the other teachers too, know exactly what has happened.

'I'm sorry,' I mumble, and scurry to my seat, head down. But it isn't enough to stop every pair of eyes in the room from following me, and I catch the expression of disappointment in one particular blue pair as I pass them. It hurts to witness the pain I have caused, and yet a small part of me is triumphant that he still feels enough for me to react to my betrayal. And then it hits me that he isn't disappointed in me because he cares about me, he's disappointed because I've hurt his precious Peyton. Sure enough, I see him send a reassuring smile in her direction, and I almost laugh out loud at my own foolishness. It's always been Peyton, you would think I would have grasped that by now. Or not, I think, as I note the red letter _F_ scrawled on the paper Nick has just thrown onto my desk. Maybe I really am that stupid. Sighing, I bury my head in me arms, fully intending to remain in this same spot for the entire period.

Sadly, my plans are thwarted. I hear the door open and the murmuring of a squeaky-voiced freshman, and then Nick's voice, loud and obnoxious. 'Miss Davis, Principal Turner wishes to speak to you. Please take your things, you will not be returning this period.'

Once again, all eyes are on me, and I want to scream at them, to point out that they've all seen every fucking inch of me already, that there's nothing more to see. But I don't, because I know that even though every person in the room is thinking of that tape, that bringing the subject up would mean seeing four pairs of eyes cloud over with expressions that would be made no less distressing by their predictability: Nathan's guilt, Haley's sadness, Peyton's anger, and Lucas's disappointment. So instead, I grab my bag and run out of the room, almost knocking over the freshman as I do so.

It shows how bad things have become that I'm almost at Principal Turner's office before it occurs to me that him wanting to see me is actually not a good thing. A sinking feeling begins in the pit of my stomach, and I know, I just _know_, that he somehow knows about the algebra test. I have to fight the part of me that wants to turn and run and never look back, and instead force myself to swallow hard and knock on the imposing door in front of me.

'Come in.' Principal Turner's voice is strong and authoritative, and I take one last breath before I push open the door, and then gasp in surprise as I see the other occupants of the office. Rachel. And Chase.

'Miss Davis,' Principal Turner begins, and I can't bring myself to look him in the eye, 'Mr Adams has come forward and informed me that Miss Gatina was not the only person responsible for the theft of the algebra paper from the tutor centre.'

I gulp. 'He informs me, and Miss Gatina has corroborated his story, that you were also in the tutor centre when the incident occurred, and that the test was stolen for the aid of yourself rather than for the use of Miss Gatina.' He pauses, and glances at some papers on his desk before continuing. 'Frankly, Miss Davis, this explanation is highly creditable, as Miss Gatina has maintained a C average in this subject, whereas your own mathematical ability is decidedly below the acceptable standard required for a pass in this class.' He pauses again, and then asks the question I have been anticipating since I first opened the door and saw Chase there. 'Is this true Miss Davis?'

I am silent for a second, waiting for my mouth to overflow with the mix of excuses, apologies, and flirtatiousness that has got me out of a million and one situations like this. But nothing happens. I don't have a single response. Instead, I close my mouth, and simply nod.

Principal Turner sighs and closes the file in front of him. 'Very well Miss Davis, you leave me with no choice. As of this moment you are no longer welcome at Tree Hill High. Please clear out your locker and leave immediately.'

And so I do.


	3. Chapter 2

Hey, so the next part's up…I'm not sure I really like this chapter, and to be honest I don't think the next couple of chapters are going to be much better. But hey, after that it should get better! Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I really appreciate the time you spent reading and then commenting! A couple of people said that they didn't like how bad I was making Brooke's life, so just as a warning, it's only going to get worse! But anyway, enough of me talking, enjoy the next chapter!

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'Brooke! _Brooke_!'

Blearily, I rub my eyes and fumble on the floor for the glass of water I had the sense to put on the floor beside me before I passed out. I take a swig, but the lukewarm liquid does little to soothe my dry mouth. I gradually become aware that the outrageously loud noise I can hear is actually someone hammering on Rachel's front door and screaming my name angrily.

'Brooke! Get your ass out here you cheating fucking whore!' I recognise the voice as Haley's, and for a millisecond I smile. Who knew tutor-girl had such a dirty mouth? But then it occurs to my vodka-addled brain that no matter how humorous Haley's sudden profanity might seem, I probably shouldn't be finding it funny when the abuse she is hurling is aimed at me.

'For fuck's sake Brooke, you can't avoid me forever!' The hammering is getting louder and more insistent and I blanch, knowing she's right: I can't avoid Haley for much longer; I have to see her every day at school….or at least I _did._ The recollection that I am no longer welcome at Tree Hill High washes over me, but this time I am not ashamed or upset, just relieved. Maybe I _can_ avoid Haley forever. And not just Haley, but Nathan and Peyton, and everyone who stares at me in the halls, whispering that there goes the slut who slept with her best friend's boyfriend. And Lucas. A momentary pang crosses my heart as I realise that my expulsion also means I won't see him every day, but it fades just as rapidly as I remember the disappointment etched on his face every time he looks at me. He'll be happier without me there, and that's what I want. And besides, I'm doing so much brooding at the moment that someone needs to be Cheery, and I can't see him doing that with me there, hurting his beloved Peyton just by existing.

Just as I come to the conclusion that my expulsion is actually a positive thing for everyone, I hear a loud smashing noise from outside, followed by the sound of the front door being thrown open. Leaping to my feet, I forget all about my plan to avoid speaking to Haley, and fly down the stairs.

'What the fuck!' I scream at Haley, who is standing in the hallway, flushed and panting and surrounded by broken glass that has undoubtedly come from the smashed panel in Rachel's front door.

She stares at me belligerently, and I notice she rests one hand protectively on her stomach, as if to protect Baby-Boy-Scott from my abusive language.

'I don't believe this,' I mutter to myself before wheeling round to face my friend. Or ex-friend, as I think she might be now. 'What the fuck do you think you're doing?' I spit viciously. 'This isn't even my house!'

She laughs harshly and without humour. 'Well that's hardly a problem for you is it Brooke?' she sneers, and I blink in confusion as my hungover brain tries to establish what she means by this. But I don't have to puzzle for long as Haley snorts again. 'What I mean Brooke, is that you're quite happy taking things that don't belong to you, aren't you?' Oh. I get it now. 'The algebra test from the tutor centre, Peyton's boyfriend, my reputation, my security in my marriage, Peyton's happiness…should I go on?'

'Peyton's happy,' I retort defensively, sounding feeble even to my own ears. 'She has Lucas.' _Oh great, way to go Davis, _I berate myself. _Bring Lucas into this, that won't make you sound pathetic_.

It doesn't matter though, because Haley only rolls her eyes at my words. 'But what about me Brooke?' she asks, and suddenly the anger is gone from her voice and she just sounds sad. 'I thought we were friends?'

The fact that she seems to be questioning this feels like a physical blow, and tears spring up behind my eyes. 'We _are_,' I emphasise the word, hoping she will believe me. 'Haley, I'm sorry, I am,' my voice breaks and she looks away. 'I never meant to sleep with Nathan, and I never meant to keep it from you, I just…how was I supposed to tell you that?' My voice is pleading, desperate, and she turns back to face me. Just for a second I dare to hope that she is considering forgiving me, but instead she sighs.

'You don't get it do you Brooke?' she asks sadly. 'This isn't about what happened with Nathan. Yes, I was upset, but it happened a long time ago. You and Nathan were both –' she pauses, searching for the right word.

'Whores?' I suggest, and for a second her eyes meet mine and she almost smiles.

'Yeah, I guess. And yes, it hurt that neither of you ever told me, and finding out whilst watching the event on a giant television screen with our entire class there wasn't too enjoyable either, but that's not what hurts me the most Brooke.'

I must look confused again, because she continues, her voice gentle.

'The test Brooke.' _Oh._ I open my mouth, ready to apologise again, but she beats me to it. 'I know you're sorry Brooke, you always are. But that's not always enough. You know how much I loved tutoring, and now Principal Turner won't let me do it anymore.'

I am stunned. It hadn't occurred to me that, as Rachel's tutor, Haley would be implicated in all of this. My legs start to shake and I feel physically sick as I comprehend the extent to which I've hurt one of my closest friends. I open my mouth to stammer some more meaningless apologies that I already know will sound feeble and insincere no matter how genuinely sorry I am. But as I do so I realise that the sick feeling inside me is actually nothing to do with my guilt, but rather a side effect of the ridiculous amount of alcohol I consumed last night. Desperately, I turn to run back upstairs to the bathroom, but I am too late. Vomit floods out of my mouth and over the nice beige carpet belonging to Rachel's parents. _Fuck_.

'Here.' Haley hands me a damp flannel and a glass of water. Smiling in weak gratitude I wipe my forehead and sip the water. Despite the shame I feel, a part of me thinks that vomiting was actually a positive move: Haley can never resist helping someone, and if anything this has only been enhanced by her impending motherhood. Maybe now that she's seen how pathetic I've become she might start to forgive me.

'So I take it you were drinking last night?' Or maybe not. Haley's voice is harsh.

'Umm, yeah,' I stammer.

She laughs, a dry, humourless laugh. 'So who was it last night then?' she asks. 'I know it wasn't Nathan, because he was at home with me, so who? Lucas? Skills? Mouth? Or have you been through all the guys at school now, was it someone new?' The sarcasm in her voice cuts through me, and I feel in physical pain as I realise exactly how little she thinks of me.

Seeing the look on my face, she continues. 'Or maybe you weren't with a guy, maybe you were doing something else. I dunno, breaking into the school, stealing….'

Tears are streaming down her face as she continues to attack me and my heart bleeds. 'Haley, I'm sorry!' I scream in desperation. Abruptly, her tears dry up and she stands up straighter, glaring at me with ice-cold eyes.

And then she nods. 'Yeah Brooke, I'm sorry too,' she tells me. 'Sorry I ever let myself believe you were anything other than a two-faced slut.'

And as I stand there, mouth open to protest, she turns and leaves, slamming the broken door behind her.

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I collapse back onto my bed, bottle in hand, noting the depressing fact that even less than an entire day since my expulsion I have already given up using a glass. Oh well, it's not as though I was ever what you could call classy. Taking a long swig, I wince as the alcohol burns the back of my throat, but then take another slug anyway. The second one hardly burns at all, and by the third it feels no different to drinking water. Bottle half-empty, I lay back and contemplate the events of the last half-hour.

It's funny, normally when someone voices a negative opinion of me, I can block it out by focusing on the other person's own bad points. Like, when Lucas said that I wasn't the girl for him because I refused to fight for him, I didn't turn round and try to win him back. Instead, I just told myself that because he cheated on me all that time ago he wasn't worth fighting for, and that he should be the one chasing me. And yet this morning I am unable to justify myself against even one of Haley's claims. She's never done anything to hurt me, and yet I've succeeded in breaking her heart twice in just a few days. A tear threatens to fall as I remember the look of sorrow on her face as she said goodbye to our friendship, but I brush it away. I don't have the right to cry, this whole mess is all my fault. But then another tear springs up, and then another, and soon I can't fight it any longer. I bury my face in my arms and sob.

If you only once would let me  
Only just one time  
Then be happy with the consequence  
With whatever's gonna happen tonight 

The sound of my cell phone playing Jimmy Eat World's _Work_ forces me out of my self-pitying tantrum. It might seem an odd song for a cheerleader to pick as a ringtone, as it's not exactly upbeat, but it reminds me of Lucas, of that night at _Tric_ before I went off to California. It might sound silly, but hearing my cell play that track always makes me hopeful, as though it could be Lucas calling, as though I could pick up to hear him saying, _hey Pretty Girl_…

Don't think we're not serious  
When's it ever not  
The love we make is give and it's take  
I'm game to play along

But of course it isn't Lucas. Picking my phone up off the floor I see Nathan's name flashing across the screen. Sighing, I hit the call button, not really wanting to talk to anyone, but knowing that he's my best chance of getting Haley to forgive me.

'Hello?'

Nathan doesn't even bother with the niceties, just launches straight in. 'Brooke, stay the fuck away from Haley,' he spits, and I can feel his anger even though he doesn't raise his voice.

'Nathan, I didn't …' my voice sounds weak, faded, pathetic.

'Goddam it Brooke, _no_! Don't give me that crap; I'm not interested in your excuses. Thanks to you my pregnant wife is locked in our bedroom sobbing her fucking heart out, and I am _not_ going to let you hurt her again.'

Tears sting my eyes for the millionth time today, and I hope Nathan can't hear the quaver in my voice as I try and apologise. 'I'm sorry Nate,' I almost whisper.

He sighs. 'I know you are Brooke,' he mutters tiredly. 'But that doesn't really help us now does it?'

'I guess not,' I mumble, taking another swig of vodka as I do so.

'Fuck Brooke, are you drinking?' Nathan's voice suddenly gets much louder and I jump.

'What?' _How does he know?_

'Don't lie to me Brooke, I heard the bottle!'

_Oh_. 'It's just water,' I tell him, but the lie sounds obvious even to my own ears, and it doesn't fool Nathan for a second.

He snorts. 'You know what Brooke, you're really something else,' he tells me. 'I was actually proud of the way you turned your life around the last few months. I mean we were the same y'know? Drank too much, slept around, all that shit. But I had Haley to help me change, and you just did it for yourself. But now…' he sighs, and I wince, knowing I'm not going to like what he's about to say, 'now you're just back to where you were before. Drunken, cheating, _whore_.'

His words reverberate in my head, and I feel as though I've been slapped. 'I'm not,' I protest, but Nathan cuts me off.

'That's it Brooke,' he tells me harshly, 'I'm done with your crap. If you want to drink yourself into a coma, do it, but don't drag Haley and I down with you. We're done.'

I let my arm fall down by my side as echoes of Nathan's words fill the cold silence that washes over me. _Drunk._ Well I can't really argue with that one, considering my levels of alcohol consumption over the past twenty-four hours._ Cheat._ Can't argue with that either._ Whore_. This one's harder to accept, but as the image of my naked body over Nathan's, his dick in my mouth fills my mind I nod. 'Yup, that's me,' I whisper to the empty room, but there is no reply.

And so I pick up my bottle and take another drink.


End file.
